


The Moth and The Flame

by LSquared80



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post Episode 2x06, Rio finally gets Beth on the desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-07 15:23:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LSquared80/pseuds/LSquared80
Summary: Beth is giving Rio the silent treatment. When a business opportunity turns dangerous everything comes to a boil.





	The Moth and The Flame

**Author's Note:**

> First foray into the Good Girls fandom. 
> 
> I wanted to tackle Beth's reaction to seeing Rio hug another woman, diving into how it's more complicated then pure jealousy. And, of course, who doesn't want to speculate on Rio eventually getting to see her on top of that desk?
> 
> Rating is for sex, cursing, and a short scene of violence.

And nothing fuels a good flirtation 

Like need and anger and desperation 

-Aimee Mann 

 

Beth has been withholding from Rio for days – her time, her information, her body. She has been dismissive or outright ignoring him. He thinks it’s because of the cars and the drugs, she knows it’s because he hugged a woman on the parking lot of a big box store. 

 

If pressed, Beth would argue her anger is not because of the hug itself. It has (almost) nothing to do with Rio pressing himself against another woman, wrapping his arms around her, smiling into her hair. It has everything to do with the strong probability that, without Beth’s knowledge, Rio has made her into the other woman. Or one of many women. Either option boils her blood. 

 

x 

 

Clothes are strewn on the bed. The closet is mostly empty hangers and still Beth cannot settle on an outfit for the day. It embarrasses her that after one encounter in the bathroom of a bar with Rio she went out and stocked her closet with skirts and dresses. Filled her drawers with matching sets of bras and panties. Started sleeping in a negligee instead of the pajamas she is gifted every Mother’s Day. Now, punishing him, it feels wrong to wear something she had picked out with him in mind. 

 

It feels like a waste, too. Not only shouldn’t Beth dress for a man, but she shouldn’t let Rio strip away her newfound sense of self. The sway of her hips, the bounce in her step, it wasn’t all just for or because of him. 

 

Beth picked up several garments from the bed until she found the dress she wanted. It was a pale blue shade, the hem right at the knee. The sleeves were modest, going down to the elbows. What had sold her on it in the store was the asymmetrical neckline. Altogether, the dress was fine for work, fine to attend a parent-teacher conference in. But it drew a slanted line across Beth’s chest that, if she bent forward just so, would offer a peek of the cleavage she so often covered. The dress was fitted at the waist, and trying it on in the dressing room was the first time in years that she saw her figure as hourglass and not simply as mom. 

 

x 

 

The clack of her heels down the hallway draws the attention of employees and customers. Beth greets everyone as she walks to her office, stopping short at the sight of Rio already there, sitting on the edge of the desk. She enters the space without meeting his eyes. 

 

“Elizabeth,” he says. 

 

She sits down in her chair. “Can I help you?” she asks, her tone even and detached, like he’s a customer. 

 

Rio hops down to his feet. When he turns to face her, Beth can see he’s holding her day planner. “You won’t answer my calls so I had to pencil myself in.” 

 

“I’m busy. What do you need?” she asks, annoyed. He raises his brows, drags the tip of his tongue across his bottom lip. Beth squeezes her legs together under the desk. 

 

“We have a meeting today. A potential buyer.” 

 

“Great.” She picks up a pad of post-it notes and slides it to the edge of the desk. “Write down the time and address and I’ll go.” 

 

Rio shakes his head. “Fifty-fifty, remember? I’ll be back here at six o’clock to take you.” The corners of his mouth lift into a lascivious smile. 

 

x 

 

Beth tugs the hem of her dress down closer to her knees. She can feel Rio’s eyes from the driver’s seat, glancing from the road to her lap. “Are you going to tell me anything about this potential buyer?” she asks, reaching forward to turn the dial on the radio down. The only information she has is the name he gave Rio. 

 

He shrugs. “Not much to tell. Let me do the talking.” 

 

She rolls her eyes and decides she’ll do anything but that. 

 

Rio soon slows and makes a turn into a strip mall. Most of the retail spaces are empty and Beth counts only two other cars on the lot. He drives to a parking spot in front of a dry cleaner and they get out, Rio leading the way to the door. 

 

The door squeaks open and Beth winces at the chemical smell. She follows behind Rio as he goes right behind the front desk and through a door. Despite the stench, the space is empty and no clothes are being cleaned. He reaches another door and knocks. 

 

A tall, broad-shouldered man opens the door. Rio says, “The shark is in the water,” and it must be some type of password because the man waves him in. 

 

The buyer seems surprised, pleasantly so, when Beth appears in the doorway. “You brought a friend,” he remarks. 

 

She smiles and extends her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Weston.” 

 

Rio begins the conversation, but Beth interrupts. She remains standing, offering Mr. Weston ample time to admire her hips and chest. 

 

She can feel Rio glaring at her. She’s gone against script. Beth talks and talks, rattling off the names of medications and dollar amounts. The types of customers he should sell to and their cut of profits. 

 

“What the fuck did you say?” Mr. Weston asks, standing up with such force he rattles the table he’d been sitting behind. 

 

Beth stammers. She got caught up in the moment, in stealing the spotlight from Rio and going against his orders, that she’s honestly not certain what has angered the man. “I, uh, I think I said-” 

 

Mr. Weston is suddenly inches away from Beth. Though he’s looking at her, he addresses Rio when he asks, “Why are you letting this bitch do all the talking?” 

 

Beth opens and closes her mouth, no sound emerging. 

 

“Oh, now the cat’s got your tongue?” Mr. Weston barks, reaching behind his back and brandishing a gun. 

 

Beth gasps and draws a hand up to her face, covering her mouth. The barrel of the gun is pointed at her, and when the man takes a step forward, he presses it against her breasts. The only thing she can see is the absolute venom in the man’s eyes and the only thing she can hear is the hammering of her heart, so it’s a shock when she feels the warm spray of blood on her skin. He slumps forward, and she has to reel back to avoid the weight of his falling body. Beth never heard the shot Rio fired from behind Mr. Weston, taking him to the ground with one pull of the trigger. 

 

She looks down at the man’s body on the floor and then at Rio. “Oh my God. Oh my God,” Beth chants, her voice a mere tremble of sound. 

 

Rio has bent down, holding a finger to Mr. Weston’s neck. “Let’s go,” he barks, grabbing her by the arm and dragging her to the door. He encourages a fast clip all the way to the car. It’s dark but Rio still shields her from any possible onlookers, hiding the spatter of blood on her skin and dress. 

 

“What about...” Beth trails, pointing toward the shopping center as Rio drives off. 

 

Rio has already dialed his phone. “I’ve got someone on it,” he tells her. 

 

x 

 

He can’t take her home. Even a seedy motel would have a record of their stay and witnesses. Beth supposes he can’t take her wherever the hell he lives because there’s probably another woman in his bed, and so they end up back at Boland Motors. 

 

Rio grabs a duffel bag from the backseat before they walk toward the back entrance. He knows where the security cameras are, so he is careful about what can be seen. If they need an alibi, he can change the time stamp to show the two of them, huddled together, his arms around her, stumbling to the door. He flashes a grin for the camera, one that is mischievous and about to engage in some after-hours fun at the office. 

 

Inside, he closes all the blinds. Even locks the door to her office once they’re inside. 

 

Beth stands in the middle of the room, holding her arms out at her sides. She feels saturated in blood, weighed down by it, like it’s dripping down her arms to the floor. Even though she knows it’s not. 

 

“Drink this,” he says, suddenly handing her a paper cup. When Beth takes a gulp it’s inexplicably vodka. She coughs but lifts the cup back to her lips, finishing it off. “Come with me.” 

 

She follows him to the small bathroom and winces when he turns the light on. It’s the first time she gets a good look at her torso, at the drops of blood drying dark on her dress. Rio wouldn’t let her wipe the blood with a tissue or get it on the seats of the car, so Beth has been feeling some of the splatter on her chest, above that asymmetrical neckline she was so fucking proud of. 

 

Rio unzips his bag and dumps the contents on the toilet seat. He unbuttons his black shirt, shrugging out of the long sleeves, and rolls the garment into a ball before stuffing it in the now empty bag. He grabs the hem of his white T-shirt, rolling it up and over his head. He discards it as well, standing shirtless in front of her. 

 

Beth watches him locate a white rag and wet it under the faucet, squeezing hand soap into the center. She grabs hold of the edge of the sink when he presses the wet cloth to her chest, wiping the blood away in soft streaks. Rio makes a face, mouths damn, and rubs harder. The texture of the towel is rough, scratching her, and with every swipe some part of him is touching her breasts. She grabs his wrist, shoving him away. “Just stop!” 

 

He sighs. “Come on, mama. Let me clean you up.” 

 

“Why did you do it?” Beth asks softly, shaking her head. 

 

Rio draws a sharp breath between his teeth. 

 

“Why did you do that?” she asks, raising her voice. 

 

“We don’t know him.” 

 

Beth stares at him, eyes wide and glassy. “What you did... that was not the only ending to that story. I can’t believe you killed a man!” 

 

“Really? Then you’re forgetting who I am.” 

 

She covers her face with her hands. Her voice is muffled when she speaks into her palms, “He was alive and now he’s dead because you-” 

 

“Because I saved your goddamn life. We don't know what he was capable of,” Rio says. “There’s a reason I told you to let me do the talking. There’s a reason I said I was going to teach you how this world works. Because you don’t know, Elizabeth. This wasn’t the lesson I wanted to give you.” 

 

“Maybe he wasn’t going to pull the trigger!” she cries. “You don’t know. You hold a fucking gun on me all the time!” 

 

Rio’s shoulders deflate. He runs his tongue along his teeth. Swallows hard. “It’s not the same.” 

 

“Oh? I didn’t realize there were different levels. I guess I didn’t get the memo about how to tell when someone is really going to pull the tri-” 

 

“I would never hurt you, Elizabeth,” Rio shouts over her hysterical voice, grabbing her by the shoulders. 

 

She quiets, stiffens. 

 

He softens his voice. “You know that, right?” Rio moves one hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, the side of his hand grazing her cheek. 

 

Beth nods and Rio’s eyes are locked on hers so intently, she feels pinned to the ground. 

 

“Now,” he says, letting go of her. “Can I finish cleaning you up?” 

 

She nods. 

 

He rewets the rag and wipes it against her chest. In one, two, three swipes he is satisfied and tosses the towel in the sink. Rio circles around her, gathering her hair in one hand and moving it to her right shoulder. His fingers pinch the zipper of her dress and he drags it down, the material opening around her back, then her hips. He encourages the sleeves down to her elbows until they slide all the way down her arms. With only a tug from Rio, the whole dress drops and pools around her feet. 

 

Beth is left standing in her underwear. She had opted for plain white, cotton panties and a run-of-the-mill black bra. She hugs her arms across her chest and squeezes her thighs together. She shivers, cold but also inexplicably embarrassed. Rio has been inside of her but yet it's the most he’s seen of her body. 

 

He takes something from the pile that had come from his bag. He walks around her again, and soon Beth feels the crisp, warm fabric of a clean shirt around her shoulders. It’s one of Rio’s black, button-down shirts, and he drapes it over her, his hands lingering on her arms. 

 

“I’ll be out there,” he says, nodding toward the office. 

 

x 

 

Beth emerges from the bathroom and sees that Rio is still shirtless. Her head is still at the dry cleaners, still trying to comprehend how quickly they want from starting a business deal to fleeing the scene of a crime, but she knows later she’ll call up the image of him. She’ll think about his sinewy arms, his abs. She wonders if the shirt she’s wearing, the sleeves hanging down past her hands, is Rio's only spare. The hem hits mid-thigh and she’s missed a button in the middle, revealing a small patch of her creamy, white skin. The top three buttons are undone and the red marks from the towel are visible. 

 

It takes Rio a long moment to speak; the sight of her soft, pale skin in his dark shirt is distracting. “Feel better?” he asks. 

 

She nods, which is not quite the truth. Beth feels numb. She sits down behind the desk. “Where did you get that vodka?” 

 

He laughs quietly. “My magic bag.” Rio picks up the bottle from where he’d left it, pouring them each another cup. He walks to her side of the desk to hand her the drink. He leans against the edge; it affords him a view of her legs and the parts of her milky white thighs the shirt can’t cover. 

 

Beth squirms a little in the chair. Her head is buzzing, and she wanted the vodka to calm that, but Rio’s closeness only makes it worse. “What happens now?” she asks. 

 

He shrugs. “Got any cards around here? We could play Go Fish.” 

 

She sighs, not amused. 

 

“Someone is cleaning it up right now,” Rio states plainly. “There will be no trace we were ever there.” 

 

She heaves an uncertain breath. “You’re confident he didn’t tell anyone he was meeting with us?” 

 

“Meeting with who?” Rio asks. “You never said your name. He and I only talked on burner phones. He doesn’t know my real name. I got this, mama.” 

 

“You don’t got this,” she shouts, banging a closed fist on the surface of the desk. 

 

Rio holds up a hand. “If by some slim chance we get questioned for it, the cameras here will show the two of us sneaking in the back to fuck.” He draws the word out. 

 

Beth squeezes her thighs together so hard she feels sharp pains in her hips. 

 

“That’s our alibi, sweetheart. So, you better stop giving me the cold shoulder.” He stands up, his knees bumping into hers before he walks away to look out the window. 

 

“I didn’t think you noticed,” she says after a beat. 

 

Rio keeps his back to her. “Oh, I noticed.” He turns and his eyes rake up and down, from her bare feet to her unkempt hair. “You’ve got to get over the drugs, baby.” 

 

She stands suddenly, with such force the chair rolls from behind her and crashes into the credenza. “It’s not about the fucking drugs!” 

 

He is impressed by her rage. “You gonna keep me guessing?” 

 

She bites down on her lip. Beth tilts her head back, stretching the aching muscles in her neck. “No,” she says, meeting his gaze, “it’s because you keep making decisions for me. Tonight, you decided my life was in danger and killed a man. You decided we were going to run drugs through the dealership. The other day you made me the other woman!” 

 

Rio’s eyes study her. She is fierce, her cheeks brightened by a fiery blush. He thinks back, his brows knitted close together, genuinely confused until it comes to him. “Reese?” he asks. 

 

“I don’t know her name! She was at the store with you. When I dropped the car. I saw you... holding her.” 

 

He shakes his head, smiling. He sets his glass down and stalks toward her. Rio reaches out, grasping her by the hips. “That was my friend.” 

 

Beth pries his hands away. “You don’t hug a friend that way.” 

 

Rio holds his arms out, lost. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve known Reese most of my life.” 

 

She folds her arms, not buying it. 

 

“We had lives before we met, Elizabeth. You have a husband. Remember, Mrs. Boland?” 

 

Beth shakes her head and takes two defiant steps toward him, poking her finger at his bare chest. “In name only. You know that. You’ve always known. I never had to tell you. It was obvious.” 

 

“You’re right. It was. It was obvious you hadn’t been touched the right way in years. I didn’t have to ask. But you never did, Elizabeth. You never asked if I was married or had a woman in my life. You know why?” 

 

“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” 

 

He nods. “You didn’t want to know. You wanted to be able to flirt with me. You couldn't stay away and you didn’t want to have to. You always come back. You wanted to be able to imagine me bending you over the hood of a car. Riding me on a park bench in the middle of the night. And when you finally had the guts, you wanted me to follow you into a bathroom at a bar and fuck you over the sink and against the wall.” 

 

Beth rears her hand back and moments before it makes contact with his cheek, Rio curls his fingers around her wrist. He holds onto her, their arms raised. Her other hand closes into a fist and she pushes against his stomach. He grabs that wrist, too, and his strength overpowers her anger. Beth stumbles back until she feels the front of the desk behind her. 

 

Rio tightens his grip on her wrists, holding her hands against his chest. “Don’t fight it, Elizabeth. You’re always going to come back. You always have.” 

 

She thinks about the time she went to the warehouse, leaving her string of pearls hanging from a doorknob. Beth has lost count of how many times she decided to walk away only to fly right back into his web. She stops straining against him, her body going slack. She tips her head forward, resting against his shoulder. 

 

He lets go of one of her hands, cupping his at the back of her head. Rio’s fingers draw soft circles on her scalp. “I don’t regret what happened tonight,” he whispers into her hair. “I never will.” 

 

Beth turns her head, her face cradled by the crook of his neck. She inhales the scent of his skin – woodsy and clean. She parts her lips and can feel his pulse race against her mouth. She kisses him, dragging her mouth to his collarbone. She gasps softly when Rio’s hands move to her hips and he lifts Beth until she’s sitting on the desk, knocking a cup holder and framed photographs down. 

 

Rio licks his lips as he pushes her knees apart and settles between her thighs. His hands latch together at the small of her back and he tugs her closer, Beth’s legs wrapping around him. He frames her face with his hands. 

 

The eye contact, unwavering and intense, stirs something in Beth. She rocks her hips, grinding against him and finding that he’s already hard beneath his black pants. The last thing he says to her before his mouth crashes against hers is, “You’re not the other woman,” and Beth opens her lips against his. Her eyes close as she feels the warm, wet slide of his tongue. 

 

Rio moves his hands to the buttons on the shirt. He breaks the kiss to watch as her skin is revealed to him inch by inch until every button is unfastened. He shoves the material over her shoulders, down to her elbows. His eyes drink in the sight of her porcelain skin and he reaches behind her, deftly unclasping her bra. It loosens around her breasts and he works quickly to shed her of the shirt and bra. 

 

When he bends down and takes a tight, pink nipple between his lips, Beth tilts her head back and moans. Her hands grasp at the back of his head, holding him there. The attention he pays, the reverence, astonishes her. Rio’s tongue lashes across each stiff peak. The tight suction of his lips sends sparks of pleasure between her legs and she bucks against him, grinding until the pressure reaches a crescendo. Beth digs her nails into the back of his head, her body trembling as she comes. He keeps the contact as her body stills, and it is like a thousand little aftershocks. 

 

Her muscles relax and Rio pulls back. He slips his hand between their bodies, cupping between her legs, feeling the damp cotton there. He offers a satisfied smile before hooking his fingers around the waistband of her last remaining article of clothing and dragging them down her hips, down her legs, and to the floor. 

 

He stands a foot away from Beth, unbuckling his belt and freeing his hard cock from the confines of his pants. She watches Rio stroke himself and spreads her legs wider. He’s suddenly between her thighs again, one hand on her belly giving her a gentle shove until her back is against the desk. He grabs her hips, dragging her ass to the edge. 

 

Beth can feel the spilled contents of the pencil cup and the cold metal of the picture frames against her bare back. But once Rio drives into her, he is all she can feel. His hands hold hers against the desk at either side of her hips. She lifts her head to look at him, his lean body towering above her. His eyes look down, watching where their bodies are joined, and then he watches her breasts move in rhythm with his hips. The desk squeaks, objects falling to the floor. 

 

He slows his pace. She arches her back and closes her eyes, enjoying the way he stretches her with every deliberate, long stroke. She yelps when the pad of his thumb brushes her clit and he rubs the swollen flesh until Beth sees colors flash behind her closed lids and her toes curl. It is jarring when Rio suddenly slips an arm behind the base of her spine and bends down, speeding his hips, thrusting with greater need. 

 

Beth watches his face, his eyes shut tightly. He seems lost in rapture. She lifts one arm, her palm warm against his cheek. “Rio,” she whispers. “Rio.” 

 

His eyes flutter open. He bends his head to hers, kissing her as he braces his hands on the desk. Rio groans his release into her mouth, pressing his forehead to Beth’s, shuddering as he spills into her. 

 

They remain entangled, skin to skin, their bodies hot and sated. Rio slowly peels away from her. He brushes the back of his hand across her tender breasts, her entire body still a bundle of nerves, and his touch capable of sparking a fire again and again. She sighs, satisfied, and lifts herself up from the desk. 

 

Rio seems to still be appraising her, tracing circles around her taut nipples, cupping her heavy breasts in his hands. He tucks Beth’s hair behind her ears, then his finger draws a line along her jaw, along her throat, in between her breasts. He smooths his palms from her knees up along her thighs. Drops a kiss on the bridge of her nose, then her lips. 

 

His phone, fallen to the floor, buzzes at their feet. Rio groans as he loses contact with her briefly to pick it up. He looks at the screen but doesn’t answer, setting it on the desk. He holds her by the hips, kneading her. “You gonna be alright getting home?” he asks. 

 

Beth nods. 

 

“I need to get rid of those clothes,” he says, looking toward the bathroom. 

 

“I don’t have any pants,” Beth observes. 

 

Rio smiles. “I was holding out on you, mama. I’ve got something in my bag.” He drops a kiss on her forehead before he pushes away from the desk, grabbing up his clothes as he walks to the bathroom. 

 

Beth touches the pads of her fingers to her kiss-swollen lips, then clasps her hand to her chest where her heart thunders against her palm. She feels pressure in her temples, her chest, and tears sting her eyes. It’s not all about him, she knows. There is a rustle from behind and she stifles the urge to cry aloud, quickly presses the heel of her hands to her eyes to absorb the tears. 

 

“Here you go,” Rio says, handing her a pair of gray drawstring sweatpants. 

 

Beth catches hold of his hand before he turns away. “Thank you,” she says slowly, holding his gaze, making sure he feels the weight of the words. 

 

x 

 

The house is quiet and dark when Beth opens the door. She pads quietly up the stairs, stopping at the top to see if she can hear the television coming from Dean’s room. Met by silence, she proceeds down the hallway. 

 

Beth walks into her bedroom and even without the light on she can see all of her clothes still piled on the bed. She almost laughs, thinking how wild it is that she put so much thought into her outfit and now it’s covered in blood and stuffed in a bag and Rio is probably burning it. 

 

She turns the light on and catches sight of her reflection. It’s the first time she’s seeing herself wearing Rio’s clothes. Beth turns and sweeps everything off the bed. She lets herself fall back onto the mattress, bouncing until her body settles. She rolls onto her side and draws her knees up to her chest, her body hugged by the warm, soft cotton pants and the shirt that smells of his skin. 

 

She hears Rio’s voice. _Don’t fight it, Elizabeth. You’re always going to come back. You always have._

 

Beth closes her eyes, resigned to the truth. She can't stay away. She can’t wait to go back.


End file.
